


Travelin' Soldier

by tayles_28



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Military AU, Mortal AU, Solangelo AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 20:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12140700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayles_28/pseuds/tayles_28
Summary: Will Solace enlisted in the United States Army two days after he turned eighteen. As a combat medic, he will head into Afghanistan armed with a rifle and a pack full of medical supplies. An unplanned stop at a downtown café after a training session introduces him to Nico di Angelo, a handsome waiter who's already got someone he loves in the army. With Nico's address in his pocket and his best friend, Cecil Markowitz, at his side, Will heads into the war only to discover there's something special about the person he's been writing letters to.





	Travelin' Soldier

New York City, 2004

The sun was just beginning to set, disappearing down into the shadowed lip of the horizon. New York’s magnificent skyline sunk with it, shrouded in wisps of darkness that would eventually settle into a blanketed stretch around the entire city. Despite it being only the beginning of September, the air was cool, chilled by a whistling wind.

Will Solace gathered his things and placed them haphazardly in his bag. The other members of his unit surrounded him, laughing and joking, giving each other a hard time, but Will tried his best to ignore them. After a twenty mile run, he wasn’t in much of a mood for ridicule.

He needed to go home and study his medical books. Everyone else might be able to get off the long bus ride to their homes, where their wives would have a steaming hot meal waiting for them on the table and their kids would come running to the door yelling “Daddy!”, and they wouldn’t have to worry about anything else until next training session, but not Will. Peoples’ lives were going to depend on his medical knowledge.

That’s what combat medics were for.

Plus, there was the fact that Will didn’t have a wife. Or kids.

Something hard bounced off his shoulder, landing with a soft thunk next to him. A small photograph slipped from between the exposed pages of what looked like a bible. “Sorry, Solace,” Luke Castellan snickered, jamming his elbow into Travis Stoll’s muscled bicep. “I wasn’t aiming for you.”

Will struggled to control the urge to roll his eyes. Castellan was the unofficial unit leader, a self-proclaimed title he gave himself after the first training session. Travis and Connor Stoll were quick to become his groupies, following him around like a couple of trained dogs. They were nice on their own-funny even-but anytime Luke was around, they changed, subjecting themselves to his self-decided power.

Will picked up the bible and the photograph, taking a moment to glance at the beautiful woman staring back at him behind glossy paper. Her long dirty blonde hair framed her face, accenting her supple green eyes, which seemed to sparkle right through the picture. Her smile was warm, yet playful, almost contagious; Will could feel the corners of his own mouth tugging upward. He tucked the photo back where it belonged and held the bible up in the air.

“Who does this belong to, Castellan? I know the lady isn’t yours.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know she’s not?”

“Because everyone in this unit has seen pictures of your lady. Pictures that I’m sure she would not be very happy to know have been shared with this whole unit. Seriously, who did you take this from?”

Connor and Travis both snickered, lazily covering their mouths with the back of their hands. Luke’s cleft chin jutted forward in the direction of the space kitty-corner to Will’s.

Of course.

Cecil Markowitz. The new guy.

Markowitz had been transferred from Unit 96 last week. For what reason had he been moved nobody knew, and no one had the guts to ask Sergeant Beckendorf even when they were all off-duty. That didn’t stop everyone from having an imaginary theory: Sergeant Brunner caught him in bed with another private, he misfired in target practice and killed a guy, he walked around stark naked all the time…. The list went on and on. Will was certain if Markowitz had actually done any of the things involved in his unit’s catty gossip, he would’ve been removed from the army completely, not just sentenced to a unit transfer.

Cecil seemed like a nice enough guy, but he was having trouble fitting in with the rest of them. Partly because the unit became the definition of cliquey the day Castellan declared himself in charge, and partly because Markowitz was short and skinny, the exact opposite of the group’s majority. So not only did he have to adapt to the ways of a new unit, he stuck out like a sore thumb in lineup, too.

Will actually felt sorry for him.

He was pretty skinny too, but at least he was tall. The first time Sergeant Beckendorf ordered lineup, he got right in Will’s face and screamed that he has seen stalks of corn with huskier physiques. It took all of Will’s willpower and then some to not start laughing. You did _not_ laugh at Sarge.

Markowitz’s face was tomato red, one of his hands curled into a tight fist as the other pretended to rummage through his pack. He looked about ready to scream, cry, or both.

Will shot a disappointed look at Castellan and the Stolls. He scrambled to his feet, walked with his head held high over to Markowitz, crouched down and held out his book.

“I think this belongs to you.”

If Markowitz’s face could have gotten any redder, it would have. He snatched the book out of Will’s hands, shoving it deep into his bag and yanking the zipper shut. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome.” Will paused. “She’s very pretty.”

“She’s the kind of broad who deserves a real man,” Castellan jeered. He had pulled a bag of raisins out of his bag; one came sailing over and bounced off the middle of Markowitz’s forehead.

Will was getting angrier by the second. Nobody in the unit had the balls to stand up to Castellan-they all stood around and let him pick on whoever he selected for that week’s target. He never managed to get caught by Beckendorf, which Will thought was conveniently unfair. He turned halfway around before he felt a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t bother,” Cecil told him. He curled his legs up to his chest, rubbing his shoulders. “He’ll find a way to turn it around and make us look bad in front of Sarge, and then we’ll be the ones running extra miles and doing the bonus part of the obstacle course. Trust me, there’s nothing _bonus_ about it.”

“But, it’s not fair,” Will murmured. Markowitz shook his head.

“There’s nothing fair about war, Solace. I can honestly tell you when this is all over, Luke Castellan and his junior-high bullying tactics will be at the bottom of my list of memories.” He releases his legs, his dark eyes training to his zippered bag. “Her name is Lou Ellen. We’re getting married on Saturday. The original date was scheduled for the beginning of October, but…now I’m here.”

Will sat back on his hands. “She’s a very lucky lady. No matter what anyone else around here says.”

Markowitz smiled briefly. Sergeant Beckendorf came storming into the room, barking orders for everyone to get their shit together-the bus was going to be here in three minutes.

Like the rest of his crew, Will returned to his feet and grabbed his bag, performing a last-minute scan of his personal area to make sure nothing would be left behind. The schedule didn’t have him set for another training session until later in the week-if something was forgotten, the chance of getting back was next to nothing, especially with a large gap of time in between. They all filed a perfectly straight, single-file line and marched outside, wrapped in the smell of fresh air and bus fuel.

Will took his usual seat: three rows back from the driver’s seat, against the window, and tossed his bag on the seat next to him. There wasn’t enough of them to fully occupy the large shuttle bus, and since Will never subjected himself to the rest of the individualized groups, he usually sat alone. Markowitz sat in the row opposite him, following his suit to take up his buddy seat with his backpack. He fished a cellphone out of the front pocket and held it to his ear.

Will thought about his phone, tucked in the pocket of his green army jacket. He wanted to check it, despite the fact he already knew there wouldn’t be any messages or missed phone calls waiting for him. That was the ritual on the bus: sit down, pass as much gas as one could, and check your phone. The men with women and children would always phone to say hello and let them know they were on their way back from camp; some phoned their families, mothers and fathers or brothers and sisters; some, like Will, just pretended to be interested in whatever was projected on the tiny screen in front of them because they didn’t want to seem any different from anyone else.

There wasn’t much room for different in the United States Army.

The sun vanished completely behind the horizon about halfway downtown. The streets shone with brightly lit shops, bustled with busy people littering the sidewalks with shopping bags, briefcases, or cups of coffee. Will rested his forehead against the cool glass and sighed, his breath leaving behind a cloud of vapor. As much as he knew he needed to study, he didn’t feel like going home. Going home meant being alone in the tiny, run-down, one-bedroom apartment the army supplied for him, no one to accompany him except a stack of towering textbooks and whatever was on the four cable channels his TV got. He was starving, not even sure if he had a sufficient meal in the fridge.

As the bus neared the far edge of downtown, dropping people off along the way, a bright neon sign reading CAFÉ 45 caught Will’s eye. He’d heard rumours about that place, how they made the best onion rings on this side of town and the only way to cure a hangover was with their monstrous BLT, but had never ventured the trek over to try it out. When they pulled over to let out a couple guys who lived down the street, Will got up.

“Private Solace?” the bus driver, Argus, asked. “Your building is still a few stops away.”

“It’s okay, Argus,” Will said. “I’ve got a stop to make before I go home tonight. I can walk from here.”

“Are you sure, Private? I don’t mind coming back.”

Will shook his head. “Thank you for offering, sir, but I’ll be alright.”

Argus didn’t look convinced, but he let Will off the bus and closed the doors behind him. A gust of wind picked up, whipping through Will’s hair and making him pull the zipper of his army jacket up to his chin.

The diner was quiet, not overly crowded but not empty. As soon as Will pulled the door open and stepped inside, an entry bell jingled; the six young adults sitting at the bar all stopped talking and stared longingly at him.

He nodded stiffly in greeting before slipping into the empty booth directly across from them. After slowly removing his jacket, he picked up a menu.

* * *

Working the night shift was Nico di Angelo’s favourite. It was often quiet, allowing him to sit behind the bar with his sketchbook, transforming whatever ideas he stored in his brain to something beautiful on paper. His sister always told him he might as well quit his job at the diner-his artistic talents were far too superior to waste time on some minimum wage waiter gig.

But that was two years ago. Before she decided to go off and join the army.

She didn’t even ask. She just came home one day, pulled him into their shared bedroom and told him she had enlisted. She was leaving for training in two weeks.

That was the last time he saw her. Her letters stopped coming a month ago.

No official paperwork had come, but Nico didn’t need it. He already knew she was gone. He had already _accepted_ that she was gone.

He was wiping the counter when the front door’s bell jingled and his friends came stumbling in. Percy and Annabeth lead the pack, him wearing her decathlon jacket and her wearing his swim team hoodie, with Jason and Piper and Leo and Calypso right behind them. Jason’s football jacket was slung casually over his shoulder; Leo kept fiddling with one of the buttons on his grease-covered overalls.

“’Sup, di Angelo?” Percy called, sidling up to the bar, pulling a giggling Annabeth into his lap. He tucked a mess of blonde curls behind her ear and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “What’s happening tonight?”

Nico tossed his cloth into the large pocket of his apron, sharing a knowing look with Jason. “The same thing that happens every night, Perce. I show up to work and take people’s orders and bring them their food that contains almost all of the calories a person is supposed to consume in one day.” He leaned on his elbows. “So, what can I get for you?”

Percy smirked. “Bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and a vanilla Coke. Please.”

“You got it.”

There wasn’t anyone else in the diner, so once Nico gave all of their orders to the head line cook, Albert, he pulled up his own stool and sat with them. Jason had just led the Goode High Hawks to the football team’s first victory of the season, thanks to his seventy-two-yard touchdown run with twenty seconds left in the fourth quarter. He was named captain of senior varsity this year, starting quarterback, which was apparently a huge deal. Nico wasn’t much for sports, but he made a promise to Jason to try to make as many games as he could to be part of his growing support system. Piper would explain all the rules and plays to him.

They’d been together since freshman year. Percy and Annabeth, too. Anyone who was anyone at Goode knew who they were, because they weren’t Percy and Annabeth or Jason and Piper. They were _PercyandAnnabeth_ or _JasonandPiper._ It almost felt as if they had slowly morphed into one single person, half of him and half of her merging together to create this new being that everyone knew and everyone wanted to be.

Including Nico.

And Nico didn’t even like girls.

For some reason, that didn’t matter. He still found himself longing for that type of companionship, someone he could turn to after a long day or even a normal day. Someone who could make him feel not so alone.

Because even surrounded by a sea of friends, he still felt alone.

And then the front door jingled.

He was dressed in army greens, jacket zipped up to his chin. His shouldered backpack looked full, his combat boots caked by a thin layer of mud. Tall and slim, unlike the desired image of a soldier, his blond curls were neatly trimmed, slicked back with gel or maybe sweat. His face was pale, the constellation of freckles scattered across his cheeks dulled from weary, hooded eyes bluer than the bluest ocean.

Nico froze. Everyone immediately stopped talking.

The blond man nodded stiffly at them. He hunched his shoulders forward, wiped his boots on the mat and took a seat at the empty booth across from them. His bag slipped off his shoulders, his jacket unzipped and removed to reveal a simple army t-shirt with a large red cross on the right sleeve. He lifted a menu, hands steadier than Nico could have ever imagined.

Percy was the first to move, letting out a low, long whistle. “Guys, that’s Will Solace.”

_God,_ Nico thought, _Even his name is handsome._

“No way,” Leo said, chomping down on a French fry. “That can’t be him.”

“How would you know, Valdez?” Percy countered. “He was a year ahead of us in school.”

“I remember him well enough. He was the teacher’s pet smart ass who got no grade lower than a ninety-seven and spent most of his spare time in the library. Tell me if I’m wrong, but there’s no way he was ever army material.”

“As if you know army material, Leo,” Jason said. “I don’t see you signing up the day you turn eighteen.”

“That’s not until July.”

“And you still won’t be enlisting.”

"I don't see you enlisting either, pal."

Jason rolled his glacier blue eyes. "My dad says one kid in the army is enough for our family."

“Guys,” Nico scolded, “He’s sitting right there. He’s a medic, he’s not deaf.”

Percy’s brow furrowed, highlighting confused flecks in his sea green eyes. “How do you know he’s a medic?”

Nico extracted his notepad and pen from his pocket. “He’s wearing a red cross. Look, there, on his sleeve. My sister is in the army, remember? I learned a few things.”

The boys exchanged puzzled glances as he stepped around the counter. Will’s eyes were set hard to his menu, the fingers on his right hand drumming an intense pattern on the tabletop.

“At ease, soldier.”

Will’s head snapped up; the menu fell from his grasp. Up close, he looked more tired, his eyes bloodshot and bagged with large, darkening circles. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” Nico said. “I guess that wasn’t as clever as I intended. Your name’s Solace, is that right? Private Solace?”

Confusion swept across the features of Will’s face. “Uhm, just Will is fine. I get called Private, Solace, or Private Solace all day. Sometimes I forget I actually have a first name. Please, it’s just Will.”

Nico nodded. “Alright, just Will. Is there something I can get for you?”

He looked down at the menu in front of him. “A large black coffee and…a turkey club, with fries. Please, uhm…?”

“Nico.”

“Alright. Thank you, Nico.”

“You’re blushing,” Piper exclaimed the moment Nico came back around the counter and relayed Will’s order to Albert. “Oh my god, guys, Nico’s totally blushing.”

“Would you stop?” Nico leaned hard against the counter, not willing for one second to agree with her, even though the heat in his cheeks told him she was right. “You’re so embarrassing.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth upturned in her annoying little smirk. “How many times have we told you that you need to find a man?”

“The same amount of times I’ve told you that you all SUCK at playing matchmaker.”

“The last guy we introduced you to was okay.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. “I’m pretty sure that guy sniffed glue.”

Piper waved a half-eaten onion ring at him. “But he had nice eyes.”

“Yeah, whatever. Now, I’m serious, let it go. He can probably hear us.”

“He’s not even paying attention to us.”

Nico looked past her to Will, whose head was bent over a thick book. There was a faraway look on his face, like his brain was running a million miles an hour, a million miles away.

“Either way,” he said, “Shut up. Please.”

They finished their meals and ordered sundaes: strawberry, caramel, and chocolate, for all of them to evenly split three ways, one full sundae per couple. Nico brought Will his food and refilled his coffee, the blond barely lifting his gaze from his book to mutter a simple “thank you”. Nico didn’t know what he was concentrating so hard on; the pages were slightly rumpled, stained, filled with long, wordy paragraphs and pictures of what appeared to be comparable bullet entry and exit wounds. His eyes fell on the cross on Will’s shoulder, and his stomach lurched.

He thought about Bianca. About the things she’d written in her letters, her words painting such a horrid, real picture in Nico’s mind. It was those images, the ones he kept buried in the farthest, most irretrievable part of his brain that he so longed to pour into the pages of his sketchbook, desperate to put them somewhere he could bring to forget. He had tried once, so exhausted from being deprived of his sleep because he couldn’t close his eyes without becoming overwhelmingly bombarded with horrific images, but as the sketches oozed from his flourishing fingers across the paper, they were so real he couldn’t bear to merely glimpse at them without feeling nauseous.

And that’s just what they were.

Images.

They weren’t even real.

“Everything okay?”

Nico blinked. “Sorry?”

Will leaned back into the cracking booth cushion, wiping his mouth on the cloth napkin. “You looked beyond lost. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Nico nodded, his mind slowly clearing. “Yeah, I’m okay. Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m okay for now, thank you.”

God.

His eyes were so blue.

Nico’s friends finally left about ten minutes before closing, all three boys grumbling about always having to pay for stuff. The girls left the tip, which Nico appreciated, because they weren’t cheap bastards like their boyfriends.

Will had finished his food, still intensely focused on his book. Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Leo, and Calypso had all stared him down as they left, and he didn’t even flinch. Watching them watch him made Nico angry, like Will was nothing more than a shiny doll on display. He was a person, a person brave enough to put his own life on the line to protect their country. It was the kind of courage Nico only dreamed of having.

He cleaned the counter and the storage space behind it, and mopped the floor. Albert hollered out a brusque goodbye as he went out the back door. Will didn’t move, continuing to remain in his unresponsive, concentrating state.

Finally, Nico took a slow breath. With all the strength he could muster, he reached out and put his hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Hey, Will?”

He jumped, banging his elbow hard on the edge of the table. “Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”

Nico frowned. “Uhm, what?”

“Sorry,” Will huffed, rubbing his elbow. “It’s a habit, I guess.” His eyes flitted around the empty restaurant, falling on the mop in Nico’s hand. “You’re closing, aren’t you?”

“We actually closed about twenty minutes ago.”

Will’s face visibly fell. His hands scrambled over his book, nearly knocking his full, cold cup of coffee all over it. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered, “I lost track of time, I didn’t mean to keep you late. I’m sorry, I’ll leave now.”

“Wait.”

The word slipped from Nico’s lips before he had a chance to stop it. Will instantly froze, looking near ready to bring himself to attention.

Nico didn’t move. Neither did Will.

Will finally relaxed, his strong fingers fanning over the pages of the book. “Uhm, this might be totally crazy, and I don’t believe I’m in the place to ask this but, would you mind sitting down for a while and talking to me? I’ve been feeling kind of down. When I leave here, I’ll be going home to an empty apartment and honestly, it’s the last place I want to be right now. I’d take the sinking mud pit in the obstacle course over my lonely apartment.”

Nico swore his heart skipped a couple beats. Will’s face was long, clouded with fatigue and hope, as if he somehow knew Nico, a complete stranger, was going to make all of his worries disappear simply by sitting across from him in an empty diner.

“Sure,” he agreed, unable to withstand the smile on his lips. “Let me go put the mop away first.”

* * *

The book wasn’t much, but it was all he had room for in his pack.

It covered the basics, mostly, going into the most minimal of details on certain subjects, like the size of an entry wound verses an exit wound, and the difference between arteries and veins. Some of it was almost too basic, stuff Will learned about in grade twelve biology class, stuff that didn’t seem complicated enough to help him out on an active war field.

Wow.

Something _wasn’t_ complicated enough.

That was a new low.

Nico had gone to the back to put away the mop, and Will found himself staring after him long after the graffiti-covered door swung shut behind him. His fingertips tingled with intrigue, a feeling he’d become unfamiliar with since he first saw the advertisement for army medics.

_Oh, no you don’t,_ his conscience scolded. _You’re leaving for Afghanistan in two weeks. There is no time for feelings._

When Nico returned, he’d lost his apron and replaced it with a black simple knit cardigan. His dark, unruly hair fell in his even darker eyes, a look Will had been missing ever since his own messy curls succumbed to military rule. It took most of his willpower not to reach across the table and brush it around his ears.

"I'm sorry about my friends," Nico said. "They can be kind of oblivious sometimes."

Will blinked hard. "Oh, it's okay. i wasn't paying much attention to them, anyway."

"Yeah. They noticed."

An awkward sort of silence settled over the table like midnight snow. “So,” Nico started, wrapping his thin, artistic-like fingers around one of the glasses of water he brought to the table, “What would you like to talk about?”

Will lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “It doesn’t matter to me. Ask me something. Anything you want.”

Nico picked at the skin around his thumbnail; Will could almost see the gears in his brain whirring.

“Go ahead and ask it, Nico,” he said softly. “I won’t get upset.”

The dark-haired boy sighed deeply. “Why the army, Will?”

Will laced his fingers together, placing them atop his medical book. “I was always fascinated by war. Not in the sick, twisted way you’re probably thinking right now. I could never wrap my head around what could make people so angry, so filled with uncontrollable rage that they would send a mass of humans to destroy other humans. And I mean literally destroy. Fight and kill and shoot until there was hardly anyone left. I’ve read more books about war than I can count. Same with movies.”

“What’s your favourite war movie?”

“ _Saving Private Ryan_ ,” Will answered immediately.

Nico wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t that movie really sappy?”

“There’s a lot more to it than what meets the eye.”

“Why a combat medic?” Nico asked now, scratching the side of his nose. “Why not train as a regular soldier?”

Will shrugged again. “I was really good at biology. My mom always wanted me to be a doctor. I figured this way, I could serve my country and help people at the same time. It’s like a win-win. Kind of.”

Nico laughed, and Will’s toes curled inside his boots. His smile lit up his whole face, making his already captive eyes that much more demanding, so Will couldn’t bring his own eyes to look away.

The smile disappeared as fast as it came, replaced by a serious frown, furrowed eyebrows. “My sister is in the army,” Nico said quietly, continuing to pick at his thumbnail. “She left for Afghanistan six months ago.”

“That’s where I’m going,” Will said, though Nico didn’t ask.

“When do you leave?”

“Two weeks.”

Nico hummed. He kept his gaze down, leaving Will longing to find the dark pools of his irises. “Her letters stopped coming last month. She used to write every couple weeks. And then, all of a sudden…nothing.” He cleared his throat, training his gaze to the shadowed, slightly steamed window. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead.”

Will frowned. “How do you know? Did you get an official letter? They usually send an official letter.”

“No,” Nico said, his tone sharp and snappy. “I don’t need a letter. She’s my sister. It’s just something I know.”

The dripping dejection in his voice left Will speechless. His mind was scrambling, raring to find the perfect words to say to give Nico even the smallest bit of comfort.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Nico told him, seemingly reading his thoughts. “I don’t need you to say anything.”

“Oh, uhm, okay.” Heat crawled up the back of Will’s neck, spreading fast through his face. “Nico, can I ask you something?”

Nico nodded feverishly. “Of course you can.”

Will exhaled slowly, not expecting to be this nervous from a simple question. “I know you probably have a girlfriend, and you clearly have lots of friends already, but at this moment I don’t care. I’ve got no one to send a letter to.” Nico’s jaw went slack, but Will kept going, knowing he’d lose his confidence if he stalled any longer. “Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?”

* * *

“Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?”

Will’s question ran an incessant loop in Nico’s head. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure it was going to explode right through his ribcage.

“No,” he stumbled. “I mean, yes, of course you can send me a letter. Of course you can.”

A bright blue spark lit up Will’s eyes, momentarily ridding them of their heavy-lidded tiredness. His smile was perfect: warm, full, complete with perfect teeth and the cutest dimples. Electricity showered Nico’s spine and coursed all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Will downed the rest of his water in two big gulps. “I should probably get your address then. So I know where to send it.”

“Oh, right. Sure.” Nico scribbled his address on a scrap piece of paper Will found in his bag. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Will gave him that megawatt smile again. “Not just for the address, but for staying late to talk to me. I appreciate it. And I am sorry for making you stay late.”

Nico didn’t have the courage to tell him he wouldn’t have kicked him out anyway, whether Will had asked for a friendly ear or not. The fact that he actually had a pile of homework waiting for him didn’t seem important anymore, either. “It was my pleasure,” he said, and he meant it. “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Nico nervously licked his lips. “Are…are you scared?”

Will’s hands fell from the tabletop, landing in his lap. His eyes wandered down to the closed book in front of him, then back up to Nico, shiny with threatening tears. “I’m not scared of dying,” he managed, clearing his throat shakily. “I’m scared of other people dying while their lives are in my hands.” The fragile look in his eyes evaporated, replaced by a fearful determination. “That’s the hard part about being a combat medic. Not only are you responsible for your own life, you’re responsible for the lives of the rest of your crew. If someone goes down, it’s your job to do whatever you can to get them to safety and provide them with as much care as you can. For whatever amount of time you’re with them, whether it’s seconds or minutes, the fate of their life rests on your shoulders.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” Nico stated, inwardly feeling like an idiot for pointing out such an obvious statement.

Will sighed. “It’s something I’m going to deal with. And I promise you, with all my heart, I will do whatever I can to protect my crew and my country.” He stood up and stretched, re-shouldering his backpack. “I really should get going now. Thank you again, Nico, for everything.”

Nico watched him walk out the door, the jingle of the bell ringing in his ears.

_I promise you, with all my heart, I will do whatever I can to protect my crew and my country._

Nico didn’t doubt that. He didn’t doubt that one bit.


End file.
